Three Times
by hijaubiru7
Summary: People said three times a charm. Prouvaire remembers the three times he met a certain girl before he can finally write a perfect poem.


Hi, everyone! This is my first attempt at writing something involving Les Miserables. Hope you guys enjoy it. Please read and leave review to tell me what you think. Have a nice day, everyone!

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The first time he saw her, was on his way to the Café Musain after classes. It was a chilly night even for spring, and he had to pull his coat closer to him as the chill had snuck down to his bones. As he passed by a small bakery just before the turn of the corner to the café, the wonderful smell of freshly baked bread caught his attention. Unconsciously he stopped to appreciate the fact that a simple thing such as warm bread could bring so much joy and pleasure. His stomach grumbled, reminding him that he had nothing to eat since the half loaf of bread he had that morning, so Jehan stepped closer towards the bakery with the intention to grab something for him before continuing towards the Café.

However, something caught his attention before he could enter. In front of the glass display of the bakery, a thin figure stood, shamelessly peering inside. It was a young lady, judging from the dirty brown hair that reached the middle of her back. She was dressed only in a dirty white chemise that had threatened to fall off at one side, and a tattered brown skirt that stopped at her mid-calf, no doubt picked up from someone's garbage. She used a worn-out leather back to hold up her skirt, tied tightly around her disturbingly tiny waist, and was barefooted. The people who had been passing by in front of the bakery threw her a dirty look at her direction and scrunched their noses in disgust, particularly displeased with her immodest state of dressing as well as the filth on her clothes and body.

Jehan took a step closer towards the said girl, but she was too preoccupied on the breads that lined the display to notice. He noticed she was shivering, and one of her hands seemed to be pressing down on her stomach. She licked her lips when the baker brought out another fresh batch of baked pastries, lining up the display one by one. Jehan was just about to approach the girl when he heard an angry voice from behind him. "You filthy rat! Get away from here, you're driving away my customers!" a tall burly man swept past him and went straight for the girl, a broomstick raised high in one hand. Jehan would have jumped in between the two, but the girl bolted away into the darkness before he could even say anything.

"Forgive the intrusion, monsieur. That girl had been affecting my business these past couple of days," the man turned to Jehan once he was sure that the girl was out of sight, a smile on his face. The poet said nothing, only nodding his head to the man's words. "Please come in," without a word, Jehan followed the man inside, taking off his hat as he did. Truthfully he had lost any intention to buy anything from the man's shop, having witnessed the incident just now. He was rather angry at himself for being unable to stand up for the girl, when he and his friends had called themselves "Friends of the Abased". With a sigh, he decided that he should just go straight to the Café, and perhaps can write out the anger and frustration he was feeling. The baker protested as Jehan went for the door instead of making any purchase, but the latter merely gave him a polite bow to thank him instead.

As he stood facing the door, his eyes caught something interesting. Near an alley across the street from the bakery, slightly hidden in the shadows the girl from earlier stood. She was no doubt eyeing the display once again, before she slowly looked up and their gazes locked. Immediately, Jehan went straight to the glass display and bought six pieces of the fresh pastries, before rushing out towards the alley where he had seen the girl momentarily.

"Mademoiselle," he called out gently, hoping that he would not scare her off like the man earlier. She cautiously peeked out from the shadows, and looked at him from head to toe. Seeing that he had no cane or anything else that can hurt her, the girl emerged fully from her hiding, allowing him to take a closer look at her for the first time. Her skin was sallow, with sunken cheeks and sagging eyelids, her bony shoulders jutted out rather prominently. Jehan tried his best not to stare at the girl any longer, and showed her the parcel he had in hand instead. "Care to join me for a meal?" he asked with a smile on his face, just like any perfect gentleman would. She was surprised, but nodded her head eagerly nevertheless.

He brought her to a bench nearby and laid out his handkerchief for her to sit on. They ate in silence ignoring the looks they had been receiving from passer-bys. She was practically gobbling down the food, not even pausing to catch her breath, while he just enjoyed his pastry calmly, only giving her occasional glances. He wondered how long had it been since she had anything proper to eat, and immediately felt a pang inside his heart. He knew she was just one of the many unfortunate souls who had to call the street home, and he could only do as much to help her. Even if he had helped her with food this one time, he knew at the end of the day she'll be faced with the cold night wind and other creatures and characters of the night that roamed the streets.

She finished all of her food even before he was halfway through his portion, and licked the crumbs between her dirty fingers as to not waste any of the blessings she was bestowed upon that night. The grand bells of the Notre Dame struck eight times, reminding him that he as actually half an hour late to their meeting at Café Musain that night. Hastily he shoved the remaining of his food into her hands, prompting her to look at him with a questioning look. Jehan thought for one second before taking off his bright purple outer coat and draped it around her thin form, carefully clasped the top buttons together. He tipped his hat slightly and gave her a customary bow before making his way quickly to the Café Musain to find his friends.

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The second time he met her, was around two weeks after their first meeting. He was walking home from the library after a particularly long assignment, his head felt heavier than usual from the workload. It was not really that late, but it was exceptionally dark that night, the dimly-lit streetlamps did nothing much in lighting up the surrounding. It always gave him the creeps whenever he walk down that part of the city, sending shivers down his spine as he saw many forms lying along the pavement, some of them staring him down with interest. As he turned left in one corner, Jehan felt a sharp blow to the back of his head that sent him stumbling to the cold, hard ground. Before he could even register what happened, he felt another sharp pain in his ribs when someone kicked him hard.

He was quite small compared to some of his friends and classmates, so the two blows had quite an impact on him. His vision gradually turned blurry and he could barely move due to the pain in his side, where he was sure would leave a bruise in the morning. Someone roughly grabbed the messenger bag he had slung across his body, causing Jehan to pull it even closer to him. His attempt was only met with a strong punch on his face, effectively rendering him unable to move. He felt hot, thick liquid at the back of his head, trickling down to his face, and the metallic taste of blood inside his mouth, but could not do anything much. He could only watch as two men went through his stuffs in hope of finding anything valuable. When they found none, they turned to him and completely ignored his pleas as they shed off his coat and waistcoat, and rummaged through all of his pockets. He was drifting in and out of consciousness when he heard a sharp cry, and a light pair of footsteps running towards him.

There were exchanges of angry shouts between the two men and a third voice, a hoarse yet unmistakably high-pitched voice. He saw a pair of bare feet stood in front of him as the owner shoved the two men away, telling them to leave. The men left since they had practically searched him through and found nothing satisfying save for a couple of francs inside his pocket. "Monsieur, are you okay?" Jehan only remembered seeing unruly long hair before his eyes closed shut, finally losing his consciousness.

He woke up in Combeferre and Enjolras' shared apartment, all bandaged and cleaned up. Grantaire and Courfeyrac were also there, looking very worried for him indeed. He had wondered how they found him in the first place, since no one even knew he was in trouble that night. Enjolras explained that the waif who followed Marius around had appeared at Café Musain and led the four of them to where he was and told them what happened. Grantaire was rather amused at the way she hid him behind empty boxes and planks like an animal hiding its food from others. "She was wearing the same coat as your ridiculous purple coat that I hate so much," Courfeyrac muttered as he took a sip of his coffee. Combeferre only said quietly he was lucky that she had first stopped the bleeding at the back of his head with his handkerchief before seeking help. Jehan couldn't help but notice it was the handkerchief he had lined her bench with.

* * *

The third time he met the girl, she was dying in Pontmercy's arms. Things were chaotic, especially after the lovesick student had threatened to blow up the whole barricade to get the National Guards to retreat, so no one really noticed when happened. Courfeyrac who was near Marius at the time of the incident exclaimed that she had literally taken the shot intended for the young Pontmercy with her hand, before climbing down the barricade on her own. By the time they realized what happened it was too late, and blood had seeped through her entire shirt, her breathing was ragged. With the last of her strength, she handed a letter from Marius' lady friend and apologised for keeping it from him.

Jehan felt his heart sank when finally her arms and head fell limp. It was his first time watching a soul leaving a body, and now the idea of death seemed even more real to him. He had not properly thanked her for her help the night he was attacked, and now she was gone. When Marius pressed his lips to his cold forehead, Jehan wanted to do the same. It was the least he could do to honour her bravery, both for saving him that night and for saving Marius' life at the barricade. However, seeing the ghost of a smile etched on her pallid face when she breathed her last, Jehan realized that being with Marius as she passes was all she had ever asked for.

Silence grew between the revolutionaries as the night fall at the barricade, each of them heavy in thoughts. Jehan leaned against a wall, his notebook on his knees as he scribbled what was going to be the last poem he ever wrote. The girl's death was untimely, seeing how young she was and how she was not even supposed to be at the barricade, how she would not get the chance to see the new world that he and his friends were fighting for. However, her action of saving Marius without thinking easily moved him to tears and inspired him to write that night. He had always thought that giving your life away for someone you love to be the most romantic thing to do. The ink blotted slightly the wet pages of his notebook, but when he re-read what he had wrote, Jehan smiled and finally closed his eyes to get some rest. It was perfect.

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Thank you so much for reading, everyone! Have a nice day (^_^)


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